


Day Seven: Father's Day

by firstdegreefangirl



Series: Eddie Diaz Week 2020 [7]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Buck helps Chris cook, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Diaz for dad of the year y'all, Eddie and Buck aren't married yet but also they're basically married, Eddie plays along with the ruse, Family Fluff, Father's Day, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Pancake Portraits, Tickle Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: Eddie wakes up to someone pounding on his front door. His first instinct is to defend his household, protect Christopher, but while he’s looking for his pants, his mind catches up to the distinct rhythm of the knock.Buck.At 5:45 a.m.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Eddie Diaz Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789669
Comments: 10
Kudos: 345





	Day Seven: Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is it, seven for seven! It's been a busy week, and I'm honestly impressed I kept up with every day. Here's hoping y'all had as much fun reading as I did writing.

Eddie wakes up to someone pounding on his front door. His first instinct is to defend his household, protect Christopher, but while he’s looking for his pants, his mind catches up to the distinct rhythm of the knock. 

_Buck._

(The “secret knock” had been Buck’s idea to begin with, a way for Christopher to not be allowed to answer the door to strangers, but still be able to greet Buck at the door. He’d let Chris pick the pattern, a duty he’d taken very seriously for three days before making a decision and spending the better part of a Saturday afternoon teaching Buck exactly how to knock.)

It’s come in handy on more than one occasion, but Eddie usually knows that Buck is coming over, even if he’s not sure when. This morning is a total surprise, but he knows it’s Buck and he doesn’t have to worry. So he lays back down and rolls over to look at his alarm clock.

_5:45 a.m._

That’s unusual. The only time Eddie usually hears from Buck this early is if he’s spent the night, lying asleep in Eddie’s bed. He loves seeing Buck like that, spread out and vulnerable, and so, so comfortable in Eddie’s home. Buck had been invited to stay last night, left after the movie was over anyway, claiming an early morning with errands he had to run. 

But Eddie’s house isn’t really an “errand,” and even if it were, Buck never arrives this early, so a small knot of worry builds in his stomach.

He briefly considers rolling out of bed anyway, following Christopher down the stairs and looking Buck over. If he’s dropping by this early, there must be a reason, and Eddie can’t think of any that don’t involve something terrible having happened. 

But the deal they’d made was that Christopher could open the door, all by himself, to Buck’s knock. Besides, if it were something truly awful, wouldn’t he have called first, texted at least? Or just knocked normally so Chris wouldn’t know it was him? 

So he stays where he is, listens carefully for anything worth worrying about, and waits for Buck to come and kiss him good morning. 

The door stays closed though, cracked open just far enough that Chris can push it open if he needs something in the middle of the night instead of having to fumble with a doorknob. Eddie admits it; he’s a little disappointed that Buck didn’t even at least come see if he was awake, maybe lay down with him for a few minutes.

Even if he’s held onto the Army instincts that mean he can sleep under almost any conditions, he always sleeps better when Buck is there with him. 

He doesn’t have too much time to be bummed out though, because he hears Chris start giggling, Buck’s laughter following right behind. Eddie can’t make out the question Buck asks, but Chris shouts a gleeful response, before repeating himself more quietly.

“Yeah! I mean … yeah.”

Distance muffles the rest of the conversation, but he can hear the refrigerator open and close a few times, and the kind of loud clanging that means Buck is letting Chris help get out the pots and pans.

So they’re cooking something. At 6 o’clock on a Sunday morning, his boyfriend and his newly minted 10-year-old are cooking something, undoubtedly making a tornado-style mess in his kitchen.

(Buck’s kitchen, really, if he’s taking into consideration the number of times he’s been banished to the living room, made to watch from the counter so he doesn’t disturb Buck while he’s working. And Eddie isn’t arguing, Buck looks much more at home in the space than he’s ever felt, so as far as he’s concerned, it’s Buck’s kitchen in his house.

Their house, soon, he hopes, but hasn’t worked up the courage to ask yet.)

A particularly loud crash pulls him out of his own thoughts, and Buck yelps loudly enough that he wonders if he shouldn’t go see what’s going on. Even if he can’t help cook, he can at least offer some emotional support. Besides, there’s nothing he loves more than being around Buck and Chris, just existing in the same room as them. Everything else they do together is just the icing on the cake. 

But he wasn’t invited, and he knows that there’s got to be a reason nobody tipped him off. It’s maybe the first time Christopher has kept a secret without Eddie politely pretending he doesn’t know anyway, and he wants to respect the sanctity of that. If it were something he really needed to worry about, he knows Buck would have come to him, would have done whatever he could to look out for Chris. 

So whatever’s going on down the hall, it’s none of his business. Not until Buck and Chris are ready for it to be.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to be able to sleep through all the racket, though, so he sighs and pushes himself up to lean against the wall. The lamp brightens the room when he flicks the switch, gives just enough light that he can pick up the paperback book he’d left sitting underneath it. He adjusts the pillow against the small of his back and flips to the page he’d marked with a gas station receipt.

He can’t focus on the words though, try as he might to follow along with the details of Czolgosz’s plan to assassinate President McKinley. It’s not something he knows much about, but the book had caught his eye on Buck’s shelf, so he’d asked to borrow it. It’s fascinating so far, but just isn’t holding his attention today, when instead he could listen to the half-muted noises floating up from the kitchen, the way his house feels full and exuberant and happy. 

Even at 6:15 on a Sunday morning.

It doesn’t take long for him to abandon all pretense of reading, to tuck the receipt back into the pages and put the book away. There’s nobody else here; it’s not like he’s going to get called out for the way he’s perfectly happy to listen and smile. 

He hears something sizzling in a skillet, and the scent of bacon starts wafting into his room. 

_Is Buck making breakfast without him?_ Well maybe he’ll at least have the decency to come find him when the food is ready. In the meantime, Eddie shifts the blankets over his lap, situates himself to be more comfortable while he waits to find out what the big secret is. 

Eddie doesn’t fall back asleep, but his mind wanders again. He’s thinking about how perfectly Buck fits into his family, how Christopher is just as comfortable with him as with Eddie, how he couldn’t have imagined a better support system when he moved up from El Paso. 

He’s not sure how long he spends zoned out, but the next thing he registers is the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Chris isn’t a particularly stealthy kid, even by 9-year-old standards, so even though Eddie can tell that he’s trying to whisper, his voice carries into the room.

“You’re sure he’s still asleep, Bucky?”

“Pretty sure, kiddo. It’s still early, I’ll bet your dad is fast asleep right now.”

Buck isn’t trying to keep his voice down; if anything, he’s calling out a little louder than usual. Eddie takes it for the hint that it is, dives for the lamp switch and rolls himself back into his blankets. He forces his eyes closed, tries to make sure his breathing is steady and lies perfectly still.

It must be a pretty convincing act, because he hears the door squeak when Buck pushes it open, and Chris’ crutches click-clacking across the floor. There’s a moment of complete silence, and Eddie’s just beginning to wonder if he should open his eyes, when the mattress sags next to him as a heavy weight drops onto the bed.

“Dad! Wake up!” Christopher is crawling across the bedspread, swatting his hands against Eddie’s arms and face. “Dad! Happy Father’s Day!” 

Eddie opens his eyes, faking a small yawn as he sits up.

“Whoa, hey, buddy. What’s all this?”

“Bucky came over! We made breakfast!” He points at Buck, who’s standing at the foot of the bed and holding a tray with three plates on it. “Don’t worry,” Christopher continues solemnly. “He used the secret knock to get in.” 

“Good.” Eddie nods back, just as seriously. “I’d hate to think what could have happened if you’d opened the door for a stranger. You never know, he might try to … tickle you to death!” 

He wiggles his fingers against Christopher’s sides, laughing as he wiggles and writhes, shrieking with delight. 

“Daaaaaad! That tickles!”

“I know!” Eddie does it again. “That’s why you can only open the door if we know for sure it’s Buck. Wouldn’t want something like this to happen!” He rolls onto his side, sliding Chris far enough across the bedspread to end the tickle fight. They’re both gasping for breath, everyone smiling and laughing together. “Especially with such a tasty-smelling breakfast to eat. Buck? There’s room for everyone up here.” 

He scoots to the middle of the mattress, pats the space he’s just freed up and watches Buck raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know … Chris? You think I can trust him not to tickle the guy holding the food?”

“Yeah, Dad knows not to make spills.” He nods and reaches out toward Buck. “Can I have mine?” 

Buck sits down, leaning against the wall and swinging his legs so that he’s pressed against Eddie’s side from hip to ankle. He passes the plates around, holds Eddie’s glass of orange juice while he talks to Christopher about everything he’d helped cook. Or, to hear Chris tell it, everything Buck helped him cook.

“It was m-my idea, and I was the main chef! But Bucky helped. He did the sharp knives and-and the hot skillets. He got to be the … the, wh-what was it, Bucky?”

“Sous chef.” Eddie looks over his shoulder at the way Buck is beaming at his son.

“Yeah! He was the shoe chef!” Eddie and Buck both laugh at that, and Eddie ruffles Chris’ hair.

“Well you both did a great job. I’ve just gone one question.” 

“What?” 

“Are my eyebrows really as big as a piece of bacon? I mean, the rest of this pancake portrait is spot on, but you think I need to do something about those? Is that some sort of a hint?”

Christopher rolls his eyes and grins.

“No, Dad! It’s just bacon! They don’t make it smaller!” 

“Hang on, your dad is right. But I think I know how to fix it.” Buck reaches over and snatches one of the slices of bacon, chews halfway down the length and tears it in half with his fingers before rearranging it on the plate. “See? How’s that, Eds? More accurate?”

“Mmm. Pre-bitten bacon, my favorite. How’d you know, Buck?”

“I had a feeling.” Buck picks a strawberry off of his own plate – the nose, if Eddie is seeing things right – and holds it out for him to take gently between his teeth. “C’mon, your eyebrows are going to get cold, and that scrambled-egg scruff on your chin.”

With that, they all dig in, and for a few minutes, the only noises are those of metal cutlery scraping against the ceramic plates.

Then, Buck leans his head over to Eddie’s shoulder, kisses lightly at his jaw. He’s not trying to start anything, just looking for a way to get Eddie’s attention without Chris noticing.

“Hey, happy Father’s Day.” He sits up and smiles when Eddie turns his head to look. 

“Thanks.” Eddie looks between Buck and Chris, then down at the plates of food they’d created together, and he knows exactly what he needs to say next. 

It’s not something they’ve really talked about, not yet, but Eddie knows it’s true anyway.

“You too, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all she wrote!
> 
> Stay tuned for more Buddie publishing coming in the next few weeks (yes, for everyone who likes to scream at me about it, that means the brownie fic. Looking at you, Eli.)


End file.
